Actually, it’s not so funny. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but I think it comes down to, the humor feels like they’re laughing at us, not with us.

Brian Juergens at AfterElton.com stated it nicely:

Rampant dated gay stereotypes (hairdressing! fashion! lisps!)? Check. Predatory gay sexuality? Check. Straight white men running around beating gay men in the face with shovels as “comedy”? Check.

The thing is, these guys probably think that they’re being “irreverent” and “daring” by making this. Maybe they’re not homophobic at all. But if so, they’re also apparently too stupid or insensitive to realize that what they’ve created isn’t sending up stereotypes, it’s reenforcing them. And I honestly don’t know which is worse: a “filmmaker” who has a blatantly anti-gay agenda, or a “filmmaker” who is so utterly incompetent in the crafts of storytelling and satire that they don’t realize that what they’re creating is toxic crap.

In the comments, friday13fan has a similar but more measured reaction:

If they would have avoided the limp-wristed stereotypes for the zombies, it would have been more of a funny comment on straight paranoia–how many people think that people can actually be “converted” or what-not. Even more clever would have been to have parents locking their children in closets to protect them from the conversion (and stuff like that). Zombies are great for revealing the absurdity in all types of behavior. So, I don’t think Gay Zombies fails there, but it fails in that it doesn’t make explicit the absurdity of the stereotypical traits that it exploits. To me, guys necking with white makeup would have been enough to sell that they were gay! I think it’s a little hyperbolic to say that the filmmakers are utterly incompetent and creating toxic crap, but I do see where you’re coming from. They could have done much better.

Quality 5.0 / 5.0 (highly recommended)
Gay Inclusive? Slightly – One mention of a minor gay character
Gay positive? Very – I love how the gay content is handled

Unusually, in this case I think the sequel outdoes the first book, though it’s close. The sheer creativity, wit and cleverness in this book combined with the engaging writing style make this a pleasure to read.

The novel is a mystery or crime drama, set in an alternate reality where Dodos have been re-created and people travel internationally by means of Gravitubes that go through the center of the earth. A branch of the government deals specifically in time-travel-related crimes.

And, most importantly, books have their own reality, and it’s possible for characters from, say, “Great Expectations” to enter the “real” world of the novel, and for the protagonist Thursday Next to travel into works like “Jane Eyre” or Poe’s “The Raven.” Hence Miss Havisham from “Great Expectations” is actually a major character in Fforde’s novel.

Someone is trying to kill protagonist Thursday Next by using coincidences. Yes, you read right. Death by coincidence. Fforde injects a lot of tongue-in-cheek humor into his work, and there are several laugh-out-loud moments along the way.

The main weakness to the novel is the pacing and plotting – what is ostensibly the main plot seems to take a backseat to the many subplots, so it sometimes feels like the story is just drifting. I enjoyed reading this novel, but I didn’t find myself reading it breakfast, lunch, and dinner as I do when a book is totally gripping. Still, this is a minor complaint on my part, given that the characters are likable, the humor agreeable, and the ideas engaging, and I award the novel high scores in the “Quality” category.

As to the gay stuff…. the author mentions once that the Thursday’s brother (named Joffy, a minister in the Global Standard Deity Church) is gay, including a reference to Joffy’s boyfriend. The scene is a delightful riff, as Joffy and his boyfriend must keep their relationship secret because the boyfriend’s employer looks down on its employees associating with… clergymen. This is the only gay content in the whole book (hence the very low rating in that category), but I love the way it’s handled, so I give it full marks on the positivity scale.

Overall 0.5 / 5.0 (don’t bother)
Gay Inclusve? Very – mostly gay, some hetero secondary characters
Gay Positive? No – I don’t think they meant to be homophobic, but jeez…

Wow. I actually watched the whole thing, and in hindsight, how did I manage that? I feel like Superman now, able to watch awful movies in their entirety.

Here is the most positive thing I can say about this movie: the performances seem very earnest and enthusiastic, so kudos to the cast for bringing that energy to the show.

Unfortunately, it is far, far… far… from enough to save the film from its choppy editing, godawful camera shots, and aimless plot.

In theory, the movie is supposed to be a satire of a gay man (Jaime, played by Brian Campbell) looking for love and self-understanding via a search for a “straight lover who will be gay just for me.” The movie’s own blurb states, “In the end, Jaime is amazed to discover the one person he never thought he would – himself!”

That’s a stretch. Jaime comes from a background of casual, anonymous sexual encounters in the back of an adult bookstore. One gets the sense he’s never had a real relationship based on commitment and intimacy.

Meanwhile, at his job at an auto shop, he’s closeted. He develops a “bromance” with a (straight) fellow employee (Ray, played by Matt Edwards) who turns out to be a homophobe who tries to get Jaime into deep trouble in a completely contrived plot twist.

Somewhere along the course of the movie, the self-loathing Jaime tries to convince a peer from his backroom sexcapades to move to the suburbs with him and a pair of lesbians to pose as straight couples, so they can try to seduce married straight men. They detour on the way, however, with a series of bathroom encounters with gas station attendants. The film also includes an odd subplot involving a young man (Monty, Michael Gonring) with a self-professed fetish for “trolls” (older gay men). Monty is engaged to be married, and he leaves at the end of the movie for his bride.

I think I’m so disappointed in the movie because its foundational ideas are actually interesting to me. The fetish for straight men (and certainly for straight-acting) is prevalent throughout the gay community, so a satire about a gay man looking for a straight man who will be gay only for him suggests the possibility of both a lot of comedy and a lot of insight. Similarly, youth is highly fetishized in the gay community, so Monty’s subplot could have been woven into the story to enhance and reflect the main story’s theme. Alas. The script is a mishmash of barely coherent scenes and nonstarter plot threads.

My recommendation: Skip it.

Overall 3.5 / 5.0 (promising but fails to deliver a high-impact story)
Gay Inclusive? Very – protagonist is gay, and the mystery takes him into London’s 18th Century gay underworld
Gay Positive? Mostly – the era is definitely not gay positive, but the author’s treatment of the gay content is.

Set in 1757, Lord John Grey is the head of his family’s household until his elder brother Hal returns from a military appointment abroad. As a result, Grey has some responsibility to protect his cousin Olivia, who is engaged to marry well-to-do merchant Joseph Trevelyan, whom Grey believes to be “poxed” with syphilis. At that time in history, syphilis occupied the role HIV/AIDS does today. Worse, in fact: it was incurable, and contracting the illness virtually guaranteed the most unpleasant sort of death.

Meanwhile, another mystery erupts: it appears that vital British state secrets have been lost and might be sold to the French. Grey is tasked with investigating the crime to figure out what happened, who was involved and how to recover the lost secrets before it’s too late.

I enjoyed reading a gay-inclusive mystery set in a period of time about which I know little. Author Diana Gabaldon has done her research (in fact, she is well-known for her historical research), and I learned quite a bit about the history of gay people in Georgian England. She also includes a list of resources for anyone who wants to dig deeper and learn more.

The mystery is mildly interesting, but unfortunately fails to captivate. I was never sufficiently invested in the characters or events such that the story’s twists would have me on the edge of my seat.

Although generally sympathetic, the main character never comes alive. Apparently Lord John is supposed to be young and handsome, but he reads like he’s 60. Whenever his handsomeness was mentioned, it was always kind of jarring, because I had forgotten he was supposed to be young and winsome. That indicates a characterization disconnect.

Lord John is a secondary character from Gabaldon’s better know Outlander series (which I have never read). Reviewer Susan Scribner of TheRomanceReader.com comments,

I like Lord John throughout the Outlander series he has always come across as sympathetic, complex and slightly tormented, but this story doesn’t shed much new light on his core character. He’s always been a bit of an enigma, and he remains elusive.

That’s problematic when Grey is at the center of the story and occupies nearly every page of the tale. Considering Gabaldon’s exquisite attention to historical detail, I would expect a multilayered character of depth and unexpected internal contradictions. Instead, we find someone who is genteel and devoted to duty, and that’s about it. Even his gayness, which he must keep secret given the social mores of the time period, fails to render him more than mildly interesting.

At the same time, the story hints at repressed passions and an undercurrent of powerful emotions. Perhaps future stories will allow Lord John to unfold more fully as a human being caught in multiple traps: the repressive social standards of the era, the excruciating necessity of maintaining a pristine image in his social class and the painful denial of a loving, committed relationship.

In fact, I was dying for Grey to get some action! I hoped his new valet, Tom Byrd, would develop a requited attraction to his master. But no. Nothing. The most important romance in the novel – which the reader doesn’t really delve into until the end – is heterosexual.

On the whole, I find this book to be promising, but little else. I hope that Gabaldon grows into this genre, and that future volumes chronicling Lord John Grey do him justice.

Overall 4.0 / 5.0
Gay Inclusive? Not explicitly – villain coded as gay
Gay Positive? No – pretty negative, actually

Monster: Angels and demons
Summary: Ruby (Genevieve Cortese) tells Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) about a girl named Anna (Julie McNiven) the Angel Whisperer. Okay, she’s not actually called that, but she can overhear angels. The Winchester boys must protect her from an upper management demon named Alastair (Mark Rolston). Over the course of the episode, it’s also revealed via flashback what happened to Sam during Dean’s time in Hell.

Overall, I liked the episode. The mythology for the season (which has disappointed me) began to redeem itself. Or at least I found it fascinating to learn what befell Sam in Dean’s absence, and how he began learning to use his powers. On the other hand, the character of Anna grated on me, and Alastair annoyed me. He’s subtly coded as gay; it’s far more noticeable in the next episode than this one, however, so I’ll comment on it more there.

The show ends as a cliffhanger with a dramatic showdown between Castiel/Uriel (Misha Collins/Robert Wisdom) and Sam/Dean. The show can’t seem to decide if the angels are good guys or bad guys. I mentioned being disappointed in this season’s mythology, and this is the reason. Our intrepid (and gorgeous) heros are caught in the middle of a brewing, apocalyptic war between demons and angels. The demons are unequivocally evil, but instead of serving as a counter-balance of wisdom and love, the angels are just as bad in a different way. They’re as self-righteous as fundamentalists, and as cold and unfeeling as the demons seem to be. It casts the universe as a rather dark place, and God as frankly unworthy of devotion.

I think there’s interesting potential here. I am reminded of Star Wars, of all things. Palpatine was simultaneously Chancellor of the Republic and Emperor. What’s the best way to win a war? To be both sides. But for that to work, you have to make sure people believe that there are only two sides. The show has the potential to suggests the situation is not so simplistic … or cartoonish. Here’s hoping the rest of the season paints a nuanced picture of morality and spirituality.

4.10 – Heaven and Hell
Original Air Date. 20 November 2008

Overall 3.5 / 5.0
Gay Inclusive? Not explicitly – villain coded as gay
Gay Positive? No – pretty negative, actually

Monster: Angels and demons
Summary: Picks up immediately where “I Know What You Did Last Summer” ends. Sam and Dean run with Anna to try to escape both the angels and the demons. Ultimately, they all know they will fail. With a little help from psychic Pamela Barnes, they realize that Anna is a fallen angel. They seek her grace (it’s a physical thing) to restore her powers; otherwise the forces of Heaven and Hell will crush them.

Okay. The mythology tanks again. I mean, seriously. I don’t even know where to begin. There’s just something wrong with angels and demons fighting like humans do, throwing punches and whatnot. And, yeah, seriously, an angel’s grace is a physical thing that it can misplace.

I have to admit I’m mostly pissed off about the demon Alastair, though. Halfway through the season, and we haven’t had any gay characters, until Alastair. Now, there’s nothing to say that Alastair is gay, except that he’s effete and speaks with a pronounced lisp. Whether or not he’s actually gay is irrelevant; he’s coded as gay to enhance his alienation from the audience and emphasize his villainy.

Norman Mailer posits that Hollywood exploits a specific prejudicial stereotype:

an intrinsic relation between homosexuality and ‘evil’ … homosexuality could be used as a plot device to reduce exposition and simplify motivation. To contemporary screenwriters and movie makers, who have much less time for exposition than most novelists, the device still works” (1).

The coding also highlights Alastair’s dissimilarity from Dean – Dean being a virile, rugged, clearly hetero hero (hell, he even hooks up with Anna in the episode, although the two actors didn’t have much chemistry).

Ah, Dean. I have mixed feelings about Dean’s revelation of what happened to him in Hell, and what he did in response. It interests me, this idea of Hell as a machine that breaks a soul down until it’s rendered into its most fearful and angry parts, until it creates evil. The scene where Dean talks about it is very powerful, as well. Ackles has great range. At the same time, I find it off-putting. The fact that Dean has always been tortured (since the very beginning) is frankly part of his appeal. He’s a vulnerable tough guy. Chicks (and gay guys like me, apparently) dig that. But this twist takes it to a new level.

The episode “Yellow Fever” hinted at this development. Dean was susceptible to the spiritual disease because he had used fear as a weapon, presumably in Hell.

Part of my uncertainty how to take this derives from the way the mythology has been handled this season: like a cartoon. Hollywood has an unfortunate tradition of taking genuinely powerful and meaningful spiritual concepts and grinding them down to their grossest (as in un-subtle and un-nuanced, not disgusting) and most crass elements in order to use them as drama machines. Is that what’s happening here?

I want to see where the writers take this (although they have a poor track record of exploring what overarching themes mean). I believe in the power of forgiveness, redemption and atonement in the real world. I wonder how – and if – these principles will be explored in the Supernatural universe.

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A clip of the showdown between the angels and the demons. I include the scene to demonstrate Alastair’s mannerisms. He arrives shortly after the 1 minute mark.

WARNING – spoilers – the events are the episode’s climax.

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(1) John Weir, “FILM; Gay-Bashing, Villainy and the Oscars,” The New York Times, 29 March 1992, http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9E0CE4D81E31F93AA15750C0A964958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all (retrieved 30 May 2008)

Overall Quality 2.0 / 5.0 (a lot of potential, but hobbled by inconsistent storytelling)
Gay Inclusive? Very – one of the two main characters is gay, and the other is at least bicurious
Gay Positive? Mixed – these people have a lot of growing up to do, and they don’t do it in this film

An odd movie. In some ways, filmmaker Damion Dietz displays remarkable talent. The story continually defies expectation, he manages to draw some fine scenes out of his acting talent, and the script successfully forces the viewer to think about the story being told.

Weak-willed (but very handsome) Nate has recently enlisted in the army at the urging of his critical mother and self-involved girlfriend. He decides to seek out his biological father for the first time before he leaves for Iraq. Meanwhile, gay emo boy Andy is reeling from the death of his marine lover and struggling with his responsibilities as a young father (he is gay; apparently the conception was lubricated with tequila).

But. The movie is riddled with plot contrivances, the characterization relies far too much on stock clichés and still manages to be inconsistent, and the ending simply fails to satisfy.

As a result, I cannot recommend the movie without qualifications. It’s above average among independent gay films, thanks to a deep story and fair-to-good acting. It’s also a very sexy film. At the same time, all of that is faint praise – most independent gay films suck, and handsome man-flesh only compensates so much.

Regarding the gay positivity of the film, I’m puzzled by its mixed messages, which are the result of terrible and inconsistent characterization.

Andy is easily the most inconsistent character, sometimes mournfully deep, other times shockingly immature and irresponsible. He’s pining for a marine lover who died (recently, by implication); he was alternately distant and clinging with newly enlisted Nate, but rarely displayed the emotion that made sense at the time.

Nate, meanwhile, is a straight guy who enjoys one night of passion with Andy. It was hard to buy into – I never understood Nate’s journey in this film. I had no sense that either Andy or Nate had really grown as people by the end of the film.

The ending. It’s not a matter of how the relationship between Andy and Nate changes at the end. I kind of like that it defies expectation. But the conclusion doesn’t answer any questions, nor does it manage to capitalize on any of the film’s themes in a meaningful way. I get the sense the film ends the way it does because Dietz doesn’t know how to end it otherwise.

Teaser:

Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (engaging and interesting)
Gay Inclusive? Very – the subject is a gay man and his beginnings in gay porn
Gay Positive? Mostly – a positive tone undercut by negative implications that go unexplored

A fascinating look into a culture and man full of unexpected contradictions.

Jeffrey Schwartz’s documentary explores the evolution of Jack Stillman – a small, unathletic child of Beverly Hills privilege – into Jack Wrangler, who epitomizes rugged male sexuality. The evolution is far from linear. Jack begins in gay porn at a time when pornography was produced for the big screen, and acting was actually expected of the stars. Sometimes adult films could even get reviews in venues like Variety.

Stillman forged Wrangler in the fire of the gay porn business in the 1960s, during the time of the sexual revolution. The gay experience was fraught with peril; the documentary largely ignores that and focuses instead on the sexual openness of the pre-AIDS period.

The documentary strikes me as a bit one-sided in this sense. In fact, with Jack as the chief narrator, the film seems more like an autodocumentary. The overall tone is self-congratulatory, although to his credit Jack seems as startled by his successes as anyone. Still, I can’t help but think there’s another side to this story not being told.

I do deeply appreciate one of the themes of the documentary: a presentation of gay men counter to common stereotype. In fact, he’s one of earliest media images that counters the stereotype of gay men as effeminate sissies; it’s interesting that his image is not just masculine, but powerfully sexualized. Jack Wrangler represents a “manly man” – rugged, handsome and sexual – who is also gay.

Which makes it so odd that Wrangler moved into straight pornography. He had his first sexual encounter with a woman on-camera. He managed to become successful even in straight adult films, including The Devil in Miss Jones 2 and Debbie Does Dallas 2.

He’s also one of the few porn stars to bridge the gap from porn to mainstream theatrical work.

Perhaps most curiously, Jack became romantically involved with vocalist Margaret Whiting, a woman twenty years his senior. They have since married.

I’m not straight, and I’m not bisexual. I’m gay, but I could never live a gay lifestyle because I’m much too competitive. When I was with a guy I would always want to be better than him: what we were accomplishing, what we were wearing — anything. With a woman you compete like crazy, but coming from different points of view, and as far as I’m concerned, that was doable. (1)

It’s a puzzling development in the personal life of an otherwise openly gay man. Watching this portion of the documentary, part of me shrugs it away: to each his own. At the same time, I can’t help but notice that it’s suggestive that gay men can “change” their sexual orientation, and that the image of a manly gay man “turns out” to be straight … or at least turns to a straight lifestyle.

The most interesting-and perplexing-event of his life is his relationship with Whiting. Wrangler is a self-professed gay man who, according to the film, can´t see himself living with another man. As a condition of moving in with Whiting, and subsequently getting married, the actor agreed to give up performing in porn films as well as having encounters with other men. He makes light of it, saying he has a healthy masturbatory life. However, for a generation of gay men who looked up to Wrangler-not to mention the era he ushered in-I have to think this is a slap in the face. Certainly there is not a list of requirements to be considered gay; what fits one person doesn´t necessarily fit another. But a out gay man married to a woman and abstaining from sex with other men? Does that even qualify as being gay anymore? (2)

Again, I return to the point that the documentary doesn’t present “another side” to the story. Despite including interviews with colleagues from his work in porn, the documentary never delves into what it all means.

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Theatrical trailer:

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(1) Brother, Job. “The Anatomy of Jack Wrangler.” The Advocate. 5 November 2008. http://www.advocate.com/print_article_ektid64690.asp (retrieved 30 November 2008).

(2) Vargo, Jason. “Review of ‘Wrangler: Anatomy of an Icon.’” DVDTown.com. 26 October 2008. http://www.dvdtown.com/reviews/wrangler-anatomy-of-an-icon/6426 (retrieved 30 November 2008).

Overall Quality 2.0 / 5.0 (A+ for effort, but hard to really recommend)
Gay Inclusive? Very – it’s a dramatic gay romance
Gay Positive? Mostly – a few instances of internal & external homophobia pop up

From the same filmmaker (Jeff London) as Regarding Billy, we have Arizona Sky.

The movie opens with a scene between teenage Jake (Blaise Embry) and Kyle (Kyle Buckland). They have been having a secret romance, but now Jake’s family is moving away. They promise to keep in touch, but we all know how adolescent promises like that turn out.

Fast forward fifteen years, and we meet an adult Jake (Eric Dean). He’s a movie producer deeply dissatisfied with his life. His straight best friend (Brent King) calls him on it, and Jake decides to take a vacation to his home town, where he looks up Kyle (Jayme McCabe).

I was engaged by the first half of the movie. From the moment adult Jake met adult Kyle, however, the script took a sharp left into hokey and hackneyed. I was almost ready to buy into the foundational idea that maybe Jake and Kyle, even after 15 years, still had a powerful connection. But as soon as we meet the adult Kyle, it’s apparent that these two have grown into such fundamentally different men, I could not understand why they were so impassioned about one another that they would be driven into histrionics.

Maybe it has something to do with the self-indulgent script. Every scene is at least 10 or 20 percent longer than it should be, and the movie is incredibly talky. I like thoughtful screenplays, but even I was dying for something to happen.

The basic story is sweet. Most of the acting ranges from passable to competent. (Note I said “most”). A charming performance from Eric Dean is probably the movie’s highlight; I also really enjoyed the repartee between him and his straight best friend. Arizona Sky is gay-positive on the whole, a few instances of homophobia notwithstanding.

Everything shows potential, from the acting to the script. The movie just never gels. Its disparate parts are all off just enough that I spent the whole movie divorced from the experience. I never stopped being aware that I was watching a movie.

Overall Quality 4.5 / 5.0
Gay Inclusive? Very – an engaging and moving story of the gay rights movement and one of its heroes
Gay Positive? Very – although a tragic tale, it is fiercely empowering

This is the movie I wish Brokeback Mountain had been.

Don’t get me wrong – Brokeback Mountain was a masterpiece of film-making, and it was robbed of its rightful Academy Award. But I have a love-hate relationship with such movies – beautiful, moving, and important stories that are horribly tragic and unhappy. I’m glad that a gay love story finally hit the mainstream with Brokeback Mountain, but it did nothing to dispel myths like gay-love-is-doomed and bad-things-will-happen-to-you-if-you’re-gay.

Milk also brings a tragic story to the big screen: the assassination of gay rights pioneer Harvey Milk. Yet Milk is empowering in a way Brokeback Mountain was not. Instead of vaguely feeling bad about being gay, I felt inspired, charged up and ready to fight for my rights. Milk also brings to the big screen the struggle not just for equal rights but also for freedom from the physical and emotional violence that gay people have long endured.

Just this week, former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee claimed on The View that gay rights are not civil rights because gay people have not been subjected to a history of violence like black people. Such a willfully ignorant statement is nothing short of appalling; and yet, it is representative of a surprisingly large swath of the population. Many do not acknowledge or do not care about the persecution of gays in Nazi Germany; the institutionalized violence against gay people by police in previous decades and by religious organizations (like the Mormons using electro-shock therapy to “cure” homosexuality); and individual hate crimes that have claimed the lives of people like Matthew Shepherd.

Thank God for Milk, and what a timely film it is. The movie dramatizes Milk’s move to San Francisco and his subsequent rise to the position of City Supervisor (after several failed attempts). Once in the position, a significant portion of the movie details his fight against Proposition 6, which would have enabled the state of California to fire any teacher known to be gay along with any teacher who supported them.

Fast forward 30 years, and Californians once again vote on a proposition of concern to gay rights – Proposition 8, which successfully banned gay marriage (after the California Supreme Court legalized it).

My only criticism of the film falls on the editing, and I’m not sure what the Gus van Sant could have done differently. He’s just covering so much territory in the space of a couple of hours that much of the story gets told in fast-forward. Nevertheless, the movie was engrossing from start to finish, and the phenomenal acting from all quarters – both Sean Penn and Josh Brolin deserve extra mention – imbues the story with life.

Please see this movie. Please take your friends and family to see it. Particularly in the aftermath of Proposition 8’s passage, a lot of people seem to dismiss the gay community’s reaction as sore losers throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get their way. They do not – perhaps because they are not willing to – recognize how a group of people have been systematically oppressed throughout even the history of a country that espouses the values of equality and the separation of church and state.

Milk is a sad tale, but one encoupled with hope. I walked out of the theater both devastated and determined. One thing can be said of Harvey Milk: his hope lives on in those of us who are willing to embrace it.

“If a bullet should go through my head, let that bullet go through every closet door”

- Harvey Milk